


And This Dark Will Become The Light

by Zagzagael



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:39:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zagzagael/pseuds/Zagzagael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serious spoilers through 5.10. Slight coda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And This Dark Will Become The Light

_And this dark will become the light. I promise this, sweet girl. I promise this to you, for now and for ever and ever....and if we don't reach that sunlit shore, then we shall slip into the dark together. Together, baby girl._

Ellen wrapped her child in her arms, kissed into the blonde locks, pulled her fiercely against her breast, pressed the make-shift detonator button.

\----------------

The explosion cracked something inside of Dean. Sam turned stunned and surprised eyes, then reached out to where his brother was faltering, floundering, breaking; beckoning with his hand, urging him onward.

\----------------

Lost. The Colt useless. Dean unconscious, and Sam stood trembling in rage. But he listened, really listened in ways he could never hear before, not from his father, not from Dean, not from Bobby. His rage is what will destroy him, destroy them all. This was being crowed at him, but in his ears it rang like a secret truth and he tucked it inside his heart. He must not let himself be diminished.

His anger burned out of him and he slumped. Where was Castiel?

\----------------

Just that quickly, the angel had them inside the Impala.

They were in the back seat. All three of them, and Dean was moving uncomfortably, restlessly against his shoulder. "Let me up, Sam, let me up. I'm okay."

"You're not okay, Dean," Sam said, surprised by the sound of his voice inside the dark car. Hollow and spent. He let go and Dean sat up, then sagged forward. Both Sam and the angel reached for him, but Dean turned back towards Sam, into his chest, Sam wrapped his arms tight and fast around his brother and rocked them both up against the door. He nodded to Castiel over Dean's head. "He's not okay, but I've got to drive and I think we need to get out of here like yesterday."

Castiel nodded. "Yes. The Angel of Death is being unloosed. We must leave this place. Now."

Sam pressed his face down into Dean's head, both hands moving Dean's face upwards, brushing his lips over his temple, his cheekbone, whispering into the corner of his mouth nonsense words, cradling his head between his palms, then slowly leveraging his brother back into Castiel's hands. Dean moaned and Sam could hear the pain in the sound. "I think he's concussed. Here, yes, like that. Careful, careful. Thank you. Alright." He bent and pressed his mouth against Deans, whispering, "Dean Dean Dean."

He was out the door and into the driver's seat. Patting at his pockets, forgetting looking searching. A quick hand under the floor mat and the keys were in his fingers, home into the ignition.

The Impala roared into the night.

\----------------

The angel wanted to carry his brother. He hesitated. Allow this, he told himself, allow this one thing. He stood beside the open car door, Bobby outlined in the doorway of the house, porch light illuminating the sagging boards, the dangerous steps. Blowing his mind remembering leaving the yard just hours before.

Castiel maneuvered his way, Sam behind him anxiously, finally reaching out and leaving a hand ghosting over Dean's forehead.

"Just put him there. Back or head?" Bobby asked, business but grief edged.

"His head. Here, Cas, here." Sam gathered books and papers and cleared a spot on the couch, Castiel moved beneath his arm and arranged Dean.

Bobby was there, an icepack and a blanket. And Sam crouched low, knees pressed against the edge of the sofa, hands administering touch and ice and murmuring low. Castiel draped the blanket over most of Dean's body and stepped back, Bobby nodded to him and they moved away, into the doorway of the room, low voices, strangled sounds.

Sam leaned closer towards Dean's face. "I can't let you fall asleep, buddy. You need to open your eyes and stay here with me. Please, Dean."

"I'm here, Sammy. I'm here. God, my head hurts."

"I know, I know."

"Fucken Colt."

Sam nodded, long fingers finally finding the swelling beneath the short hair. He breathed out huskily. "It's swelling out. That's good. That's a good thing. You're going to be fine. This is cold," gingerly pressing the ice pack to the swelling, watching Dean wince.

"You're here, Sam."

"You know it."

"Yeah."

And just that simply, Dean broke. His face contorted, eyes screwed shut, tears.

"Shhhh...." Sam bent towards him, knees on the floor, knuckles brushing the tears away.

"Do not tell me it's going to be okay. Do not do that." Dean opened his eyes and looked up at him.

Too many tears to finger tip dry, Sam's hands stilled, pulled back a bit. "I wasn't going to, Dean. It's not okay. I know it's not okay."

Dean shook his head and Sam reached down for the hem of his t-shirt and tugged it up to dry his brother's cheeks.

Bobby and Castiel returned slowly.

"Don't let him sleep," Bobby coughed.

"It's swelling out. It's okay. But yeah, Dean, you need to stay awake 'til we know for sure you're alright."

"I'm not alright, Sam."

Sam straightened back to a crouch, then uncreaked his knees, standing slowly and Dean sat up, making room for him. He lowered himself into the corner of the couch, pulling Dean back against his chest, one arm around his shoulders. Dean's hand holding the ice pack to the side of his head.

The angel stood beside Bobby, facing the brothers.

Eyes averted. Shallow breaths damming tears. Counting heavy heartbeats. Waiting. For tomorrow.


End file.
